


Never Spoken

by ArasMRinga



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content, Temple of Procreation (Red vs. Blue)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 06:39:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18115334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArasMRinga/pseuds/ArasMRinga
Summary: One of many renditions of what happened in that closet.





	Never Spoken

Stupid! Why, why did Tucker get that stupid alien sword? Tucker, in his aqua- teal, seafoam? Whatever, why did that sex-crazed bastard have the ability to unlock these temples? Like temple of food or naps, sure, sign me up. But temple of procreation? That’s how they were going to celebrate the end of a war. By fucking.  
Thank god Sister isn’t here. If she was here- wait. Yuck! Don’t think about that!  
At least everyone else will be too busy to notice the absence of a certain orange captain. Time for some well-deserved sweet dreams. So what if they turn into wet, sweet dreams?

\---

As Grif roamed the halls for a nice place to take a nap, the thundering footsteps of another came around the corner. 

“Grif!” 

“Not now Simmons. I am not in the mood to be around your kissass.” Grif dismissed his teammate, about to continue away.

“No, Grif you got to help me. It’s this whole temple thing.” Simmons protested to Grif, falling in line beside him. 

“I know, it’s a nightmare.”

“No, I mean. Everyone’s gathered here. To have a party, but once Tucker activates the temple I don’t know what’s actually going to happen.”

“Isn’t it obvious Simmons.” Grif scoffs back at him. “People are just going to get into the mood for ‘procreation’.” He rolled his eyes into his head, this was so dumb. 

“And why do you care Simmons? It’s not like anyone’s going to want to bang you.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk! You’d probably be too lazy to ever bother to get a boner, even with the help of an ancient alien temple.” Simmons retorted back at the insult.  
He pushed past the sting of the words to return to the point.  
“But what if…” Grif peered at him through his visor. “What if the temple makes people crazy? You know, make people fuck someone they otherwise wouldn’t?” 

“That’s insane.” Grif deadpanned.

“What? It could happen. And if it does…” 

Just then a couple of voices bounced off the walls.

“Captain Grif? Captain Grif?” 

“Captain Simmons?” 

“Shit. It’s Matthews.” Grif sneered. The only kissass worse than Simmons.

“And one of the hot chicks from my squad. Why are they looking for us?”

“How would I know?! It doesn’t matter, they aren’t going to find us.” Grif quickly searched over the surroundings and spotted a maintenance closet. “There.” 

Grif dragged Simmons through the door and closed it behind them. Quietly he listened for the recruits. Luckily to him, it sounded as though they moved on after not spotting them. Now it was only a matter of finding that nap spot. 

-thunk-

The handle wouldn’t twist open. It kept hitting something, the lock. 

“Well,” Grif drawled, surveying the small space. “as good a place as any for a nap.”

“What?” Simmons shoved Grif out of the way and tried the door himself. 

“Oh if only I had thought of that,” Grif said sarcastically. Simmons did not appreciate it one bit.

“Damnit! I cannot be locked in here, with you.” His hand waved towards Grif to emphasize his disgust. Grif only leaned against some of the crates.

“Fuck you. It’s not like you had anything better to do.” Simmons banged his helmet against the door. “You probably would’ve spent the whole time masturbating with your calculator.” 

Grif’s laugh died in his throat when a blast hit him in the chest. It was sickeningly sweet, like a wedding cake topped with ice cream with caramel sauce, chocolate and ten pounds of sugar, all at once. Yet, there was a bitterness too, a sharp bite that drained all moisture from the mouth. Grif always hated wearing his armor when he wasn’t working, (people seemed to think that if he had it on he was up for work) but suddenly he wanted the thing burned. No, not burned it was already way too hot. 

\---

It’s a gajillion degrees. How did it get so hot all of a sudden? Maybe this closet has poor air filtering. Damn Grif! Why’d we have to get stuck in here? In this cramped closet, with Grif.  
Grif with his stupid orange armor. His stupid face, and stupid skin and stupid lips. Those stupid lips never knew when to shut up. Those lips anyways spraying their nonsense. Those lips. 

\---

Simmons breath fogged up his visor. His eyes couldn’t see anything through the cloud. He still faced the door but could hear Grif shifting behind him. 

Grif was having the same problem. It was getting increasingly harder to breathe inside his helmet.

“Is it getting hot in here or is it just me?” Grif tried again at a joke, needing to lighten the fog that was building behind his eyelids. 

“Shut up.” Simmons snapped out. 

“Chill out dude.” His chest continued to get heavy. “They probably just activated the temple.”

“Shut. Up.” Simmons clenched his jaw. His gut was riding a roller coaster and for some reason, Grif seemed to be the operator.

“Man, I would kill for a soda right about now.” Grif meant it, his throat felt like sandpaper. Each breath was as if a sandstorm was blowing through him. 

Simmons spun around, hands removing his helmet. In an instant he was on Grif, pulling off his helmet too. Simmons didn’t know where the thought emerged from, but if Grif wouldn’t shut himself up, he’d do it. 

Absolutely, insane. 

The kiss was sharp, a slap. Both pairs of lips pulling away the second after making contact. 

“What the hell?!” Grif sputtered. Simmons was stunned. 

What the hell did he just do? He’d only thought that he wanted Grif to be quiet, so why had he kissed him?

“I-I don’t know. I-” Simmons couldn’t continue to think through why he had kissed Grif because Grif was kissing him. 

Grif’s hand pulled down on the back of his neck and held Simmons onto his lips. Something near anger flared in Simmons. Hadn’t Grif just yelled at him for this? 

Prying Grif off of him Simmons reeled back to the locked door. 

“Grif!” Grif just stood there. Panting into the air. An angry flush formed on Simmons cheeks when he saw the look on Grif’s face. 

Grif covered his face in his hands, swallowing hard. He’d kissed Simmons. Simmons! But it had helped. The ache in his throat had decreased. The feeling of his soft lips brought back feeling in his. 

“What was it you had said?” he asked, swallowing again. Grif couldn’t look up, knew that if he saw Simmons stupid face he’d embarrass himself. 

“Fuck!” That made Grif look up. Simmons was wearing a horrible blush. It tinged his cheeks, making him resemble one of those characters from a cartoon. Pink suited him. Much better than maroon. He should wear pink, not maroon. 

Simmons just continued to internally explode in confusion. Shit! Shit, shit, shit!

“Okay, okay. Let’s just take a breather. Think.” Ever as he said it, Simmons was having a hard time concentrating over the hammering of his heart and the pulse inside his ears. “If the temple is on, um, um,” he was so overwhelmed that when Grif stepped into his personal space again he almost missed the chance to protest.

“Grif!” It got Grif’s attention, snapped him out of the daze again. It was so wrong, on so many levels. “Grif, we need to keep control. Um, the fans in our suits aren’t working. To prevent overheating we need to get out of them.”

Any other time and Grif would’ve challenged him. Said it was a dumb plan, and that he sucked or whatever else. Not now, not when the heat covering his body was about to boil him. Grif stepped back, returning to his side of the closet. 

“Yeah. yeah, okay.”  
Each of them faced opposite walls, trying to calm themselves as they removed their heavy armor. Simmons finished when Grif was still working at his boots. 

\---

This is unbelievable. As long as Simmons doesn’t find out you’re fine. Yeah, nothing like popping a boner while stuck in a confined space with nerdy, kissass Simmons. If there is a god out there, he hates me. Just, stay put, don’t draw any attention.

\---

“Ahh!” Grif squeaked. 

Simmons had wrapped his arms around his waist like two possessive snakes. His hands crept up Grif’s chest and ghosted over the sensitive points there. Grif squirmed, bucked, did anything he could to escape the touch. The touch that made his skin crawl with a fire-like heat and awakens another part. 

“Sim-Simmons! What hap-happened to, to staying in c-control?” Grif kept choking on his tongue as he lurched around Simmons roaming hands.

Simmons was lost. He’d accidentally turned around when Grif was taking off his boots and saw the curve of his ass. He’d found in the lock of his suit the same thing as Grif, a raging hard-on that was only growing increasingly more painful. The sight of Grif’s skin, of his curves, his hair; the sight of Grif was sending Simmons into a smoldering pit of sexual tension. He didn’t want to touch Grif, couldn’t think of anything he’d want worse. Yet, having Grif between his arms, feeling that mass solid against his own, felt so incredibly good. 

“Can’t help it.” he sighed against Grif’s ear in frustration. 

“Try!” the command rising a couple of octaves as Simmons mindlessly tweaked his nipple. 

Grif snapped his hands up at the sharp pinch and grabbed his teammate's wrists. 

“Stop that!” He snapped back. Simmons hung his head on Grif’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He huffed. His steamy breath formed goosebumps on the exposed skin.

Grif groaned, his throat was so dry. Simmons’ hands were there, beside his mouth before he knew what was happening. The suckling sounds of Grif sucking onto Simmons’ fingers filled the closet.

“G-Grif~” Simmons tried to imagine all the horrible places that mouth had been, but couldn’t find anything that was bad enough to pull away from it. The switching between tongue, lips, and teeth all over his hand was maddening. 

“Mmhmm.” Simmons faltered at the sound that had come out of his mouth. No way! This is not how this going to go. 

In two clumsy seconds, Simmons pinned Grif against the crate. Dilated eyes met dilated eyes and for a moment the heat fell away. The torturous sweetness and ache in the stomach disappeared. It was just the two of them. Grif the emotional eater, and self-loathing self he was with Simmons and all his father issues and insecurities. When they kissed this time it wasn’t one or the other surprising it was a mutual agreement that, yeah they were fucked, but they were fucked together.

At least until Grif bit Simmons’ tongue. 

“Owww.” He yelped pulling away. Grif just stood there with a smug satisfied grin. “Oh yeah.” 

Without missing a beat Simmons shoved his hand down Grif’s pants earning a shout when he hit his dick.

“Hey!” He shot back. Shaking beside himself.

“You started it.”

“No. That was you!” Grif gripped hard to Simmons' shoulders, overtaken by the feeling of friction against him.

—-

This was awesome. Really it was the opposite, it was awful. But if he was forced to be in these circumstances, it was awesome that Grif was so easy. He shook uncontrollably every time he stroked him. Moaned and groaned whenever he changed it up, and spasmed if he added any other stimulus. Actually, it was intriguing how affected he seemed to be. How far did it go?

—-

“Grif,” Grif gasped at the word slipping quietly into his ear. “does this feel good?”

Simmons pulled extra hard and lost his mind as Grif orgasmed right then and there. His breaths were shaky and forced, an obvious struggle to get oxygen into his lungs. Simmons couldn’t help it.

“Hahaha” His laughter was full and bursting, his head fell back with the force of it.

“Shut up bitch.” Grif huffed, back to his usual level of attitude. 

“You’re one to talk, quickie.” The smile painted on his face detracted him from all other feelings. It was just amazing.

“Let's see how you like it then.” Without a moment's notice, Grif yanked down Simmons’ pants. Simmons prepared himself for a reciprocal handjob, positive he could outlast Grif. He didn’t consider that Grif was more ruthless than that.

“AHHHH!” Simmons screamed as Grif’s mouth encompassed his junior. 

It wasn’t fair, Grif had sucked way too many lollipops for it to be fair. 

Simmons only had time to think, ‘no wonder Grif was fast!’ when he felt the tightness behind his balls. 

“G-gr-“ he tried to warn Grif but the noise made Grif slide down farther. Big mistake. 

Grif choked on Simmons’ load and came back coughing and wheezing. 

When the fit was over he glared up at Simmons who was still coming down from his orgasm.

“Ha.” Grif spat. 

Simmons covered his burning face in his hands. Had he even lasted a minute? This was really the worst. 

—

When he’s insecure he clams up. Shrinks into himself and refuses to speak what’s really on his mind. Why now though? It was obvious that the temple’s sex juices made them oversensitive, and a Grif is amazeballs at oral.  
At least the crazy urge to fuck is gone. Hopefully, that’s it. The end of this.

—-

“What are you moping about?” 

Simmons had shifted away from Grif, fixed his pants and stuck himself in the corner.

“Fuck off Grif.” The order was half-hearted and lame. Grif sighed. 

Each of them had a lingering after buzz, but they each pushed it away to make room for the awkwardness and regret. 

“Let’s make a deal, we never talk about what happened in here. Ever again.”

“Sure.” Simmons agreed but it wasn’t his of-course-that’s-the-obvious-thing-to-do agreement.

“I got to admit, I didn’t think a nerd like you had it in you,” Grif commented backhandedly.

“What’s that supposed to mean cocksucker?” The moment he’d said it Simmons wished he could take it back. He could never use that insult again he realized.  
“It doesn’t matter. That’s not 'not talking about it again'.” The recovery wasn’t as solid as Simmons would’ve liked but Grif didn’t respond. In fact, Grif said nothing for a while. 

Peeking over his shoulder Simmons saw Grif laid out on his back, chest rising and falling evenly. He exhaled through his nose and crawled out of the corner. Resting against the door Simmons wondered what would happen first, Grif waking or them being rescued. Then he wondered which he’d prefer to happen first.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think?


End file.
